Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sheila studied Lucas, noting the shadows under his eyes and the stress lines etched into his face. He sat slumped in his chair, looking considerably more sober than he had at the bar. His earlier bravado was gone, replaced by a wary defensiveness.

They had returned to one of the sheriff's department's interrogation rooms. Sheila and Finn sat across from Lucas, a thick folder of case notes on the table between them. The folder was more for show than anything else—a psychological tactic to make Lucas think they knew more than they did. Sheila could see his eyes continually darting to it, no doubt wondering what secrets it held.

"Alright, Lucas," Sheila began. She leaned forward slightly, her elbows on the table. "Let's start from the beginning. Why don't you tell us about your relationship with Jake Pearson and Brad Blackwell?"

Lucas's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching visibly. His eyes flicked between Sheila and Finn, then to the mirrored wall behind them. "I already told you," he said, his voice hoarse. "We were in the same online group. That's it."

Finn leaned forward, his posture mirroring Sheila's. "That's not it, and you know it," he said, his tone conversational but with an underlying edge. "We've seen the messages, Lucas. The arguments. What was that all about?"

Lucas shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. The sound was hollow, devoid of any real humor. "You don't really care about Jake and Brad," he said, his words dripping with disdain. "You're just looking for someone to blame, right? Make yourselves feel better about not protecting them?"

Sheila felt a flash of anger at his words, the accusation striking closer to home than she cared to admit. But she pushed it down, keeping her face impassive. "That's not true, Lucas," she said, her voice level. "We care very much about what happened to Jake and Brad. And we want to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

She paused, letting her words sink in. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant sounds of the station beyond the interrogation room door. "Including you," she added softly.

Lucas's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly. For the first time since they'd brought him in, Sheila saw a crack in his defensive armor. "What do you mean?" he asked, a hint of unease creeping into his voice.

Finn picked up the thread, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "We think someone might be targeting members of your group, Lucas. You could be next. It's in your best interest to talk to us."

For a long moment, Lucas was silent, his internal struggle visible on his face. His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape route. Sheila watched him closely. Was he genuinely afraid, or was it all an act?

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I ran because... I thought this might have something to do with the videos."

"Videos?" Sheila asked. She and Finn exchanged a quick glance. "What videos?"

Lucas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the handcuffs rattling slightly with the movement. "There's some... less-than-legal stuff on my phone," he mumbled, not meeting their eyes. "Footage of climbs, you know?"

Sheila and Finn exchanged another glance, a silent communication passing between them. "What kind of 'less-than-legal' are we talking about here, Lucas?" Finn pressed.

Lucas hesitated, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the table. "Just... trespassing, mostly," he muttered, still avoiding eye contact. "Maybe some national park property that got... altered. For the sake of the climbs."

Sheila leaned back in her chair, processing this information. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but it wasn't the picture she'd been expecting. "So you ran because you thought we were after you for vandalism and trespassing?" she asked, her tone neutral.

Lucas nodded.

"Even after we told you we were investigating the deaths of Jake Pearson and Brad Blackwell?" Finn asked.

Lucas shrugged, a defensive note creeping into his voice. "I was drunk, okay?" he said, finally looking up at them. "I wasn't thinking clearly." He sighed. His eyes were pleading, desperate for them to comprehend. "Besides, the places we climb, the things we do... it's not about breaking the law. It's about pushing limits, feeling alive."

"Trespassing and vandalism are still illegal," Finn pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, well, so is jaywalking," Lucas shot back, a flash of his earlier defiance returning. "Are you going to arrest every little old lady who crosses in the middle of the street?"

Sheila held up a hand, cutting off the brewing argument. "Let's focus on what's important here," she said. "Lucas, where were you when Jake Pearson died?"

Lucas blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic. "I... I was in Denver," he said after a moment's hesitation. "At a climbing competition. There were hundreds of people there who can vouch for me."

Sheila nodded, making a mental note to verify this alibi. She'd already suspected as much—Lucas might be guilty of some minor crimes, but he wasn't their killer. "And Brad Blackwell?" she asked.

Lucas hesitated. A cloud crossed his face.

"Don't go digging yourself a deeper hole," Finn warned.

"I was at the gastroenterologist, okay?" Lucas said, coloring. "My doctor will tell you."

Finn jotted down some notes in a small notebook he'd pulled from his pocket. "We'll need to verify those alibis, of course," he said, not looking up from his writing.

Lucas nodded, then hesitated again. His brow furrowed, a look of confusion crossing his face. "So... if you're not here about the videos, what do you want from me?"

Sheila leaned forward, her voice deadly serious. "We need the identities of every member of your group, Lucas. Every single one."

The color drained from Lucas's face, his earlier bravado evaporating in an instant. "I can't do that," he said, shaking his head emphatically. "These people trust me. I can't just hand over their information to the cops."

"You can, and you will," Finn said, closing his notebook with a sharp snap. "Unless you want to go down for every single crime you've so helpfully recorded for us."

Lucas looked between them, realization dawning on his face. "You're bluffing," he said, but his voice lacked conviction. "You said you don't care about the trespassing stuff."

Sheila shrugged, her face impassive. "Maybe we do, maybe we don't. But I'm sure the park service would be very interested in that footage. Not to mention the potential civil suits from the property owners you've trespassed on."

The implications of her words hung heavy in the air. Lucas slumped in his chair, defeated. The fight had gone out of him, replaced by a weary resignation. "Okay," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. I'll give you the names. But you have to promise to be careful with this information. These people... they're not bad people. They're just looking for a thrill."

Sheila nodded, sliding a notepad and pen across the table. "Start writing, Lucas," she said. "Every name, every username."